


For the World is Hollow and I Have Touched the Sky

by Sandrine Shaw (Sandrine)



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Multi, OT3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-16
Updated: 2012-02-16
Packaged: 2017-10-31 06:58:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/341223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sandrine/pseuds/Sandrine%20Shaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beyond the things you want but don't get, and the things you leave behind, there are the things you never dared to wish for that suddenly come true.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For the World is Hollow and I Have Touched the Sky

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for everything up to 4x08.

Among the things Elizabeth left Samantha – next to Atlantis, an office to redecorate, and a galaxy full of life-sucking aliens and AI's with a grudge – is a letter sitting in the top drawer of her desk. Elizabeth must have known that, while her computer would be wiped clean once she was gone, someone would come upon the letter while cleaning out her belongings and hand it over to whoever succeeded her as the leader of the expedition.

Warnings and advice about life in the Pegasus galaxy aside, the letter is an elaborate, diplomatic and slightly regretful way of reminding her that it is very lonely at the top. But after three months on Atlantis, Samantha has figured that out on her own. In fact, she can't help but think that Elizabeth had no idea just _how_ lonely it gets because while she may have never been anyone's lover or partner or wife on Atlantis, she was everyone's friend. The only thing Samantha is, in the eyes of everyone in the city, is 'not Elizabeth'.

She realizes this on her first day in the city between Ronon getting in her face about his friends and threatening to leave and John's resentful look when she stops him from going off to find Elizabeth without a workable plan. Every little thing she does, every decision she makes, she can't help but think how people will compare it to what Elizabeth would have done in her stead. Every mistake she makes weights twice as much because Elizabeth would never have made the same mistake. She would have made others, of course, because no one is perfect, not even her – but Samantha finds it hard to compete with someone who's only around in spirit. At night, lying in her narrow, uncomfortable bed, she wonders whether it wasn't a mistake to come here. 

It gets better, for a while, and then it doesn't. 

For every two steps ahead, she takes at least one backwards. She gets to know the people this expedition is made of, and then they die. She finally connects to people, and then she turns around and finds them making crucial decisions without her. Lorne and McKay barely keep her in the loop when they mount a search and rescue mission to find Sheppard when he's captured by the Travelers. No one even bothers to tell her that Keller and Teyla might be in trouble on New Athos until they're both safely back in the city. When she loses her calm to tell Sheppard, Ronon and McKay that they can't just walk out of the gate and not let her know, Sheppard has the decency to look guilty, while Ronon shrugs and says, "What are you complaining about? We got them back, didn't we?" and McKay huffs how useless protocol is when there are lives in danger. 

It's not about protocol, though, it's about trust, and she cannot stop herself in time before she snaps and asks them whether they would have done the same if it had been Elizabeth instead of her. Neither of them meets her eyes, but she thinks they get it now.

They all try a little harder, after that. The others try to open up to her, and she tries to stop expecting that she'll be able to take Elizabeth's place anytime soon. Maybe she's mistaken, but she thinks that people smile at her a little more often now. And while she misses her team and Jack and home, the people here are growing on her: Sheppard with his fake nonchalance and his wry humour. Ronon, who may be hard to win over but impossibly loyal once he considers you worth it. Teyla and her fierce strength. Keller with all her insecurities, who might well be the one person here who understands what it means to struggle with filling someone's shoes. Lorne, Chuck, Zelenka, hell, even McKay – and wow, doesn't that come as a surprise? 

Sometimes she looks at McKay and tries to remember how she used to dislike him so much. But life on Atlantis has changed him, like it has probably changed everyone, like it will, in time, change her as well, and he's barely the same person now that he was back at Area 51. She thinks about the Samantha in the parallel universe who was married to Rodney, and she can't help but wonder whether their marriage would have stood a chance if that Rodney had been _this_ Rodney instead. But she always stops herself before her mind can make any possible romantic connection between any version of McKay and _this_ Samantha because, well, that way there be dragons.

Things get tougher and more complicated and the decisions she has to make grow harder – the safety of her people (and she really does think of them as her people now) versus the lives of everyone else in the galaxy – but she's starting to feel like it's not just her, like she has everyone behind her, and Sheppard's reassurance when he tells her so is making it a little easier to breathe.

Except of course, this is life, so it shouldn't really as surprising as it is that, when she least expects it, it throws her a curve ball. It's probably some insane kind of cosmic joke at her expense that it's the Wraith who delivers it to her.

"I was under the impression that humans needed a regular restoration period," he says, in that curious tone that makes him appear so much more harmless than he actually is.

It takes a moment for her to get it. "A restoration... Oh, you mean sleep. Yes, under normal conditions we generally like to engage in that fairly regularly," she says wryly, cautious of what to reveal to someone who might well turn back into an enemy in the not-so-distant future. "We can forego sleep for a while, though, if the situation makes it necessary."

"Ah. So it is not uncommon that the Atlantis lead personnel are on duty for several days and nights without rest?"

That, at last, catches her interest. "What are you talking about?"

"Colonel Sheppard has been here the last several nights. He said he was on the night shift, so I was surprised when I saw him still on duty this afternoon."

Samantha frowns. She can't remember the last time Sheppard was scheduled for a night shift, which means he's been showing up to see the Wraith in his free time. While she would think Sheppard has seen enough of the Wraith to last a lifetime, she doesn't really consider it something worth worrying about. She can't exactly blame him for lying to the Wraith about being on duty instead of admitting he was coming there to observe him on his own accord.

"How long did he stay with you?" she asks, more out of curiosity than anything else.

But then the Wraith shrugs and says, "Several hours at a time. It is hard for me to measure time here." And suddenly, Samantha is fully alert because if the Wraith is telling the truth, then it means that Sheppard spent almost his entire down-time (minus dinner, and maybe a game of chess with Rodney) down here, which leaves virtually no time for him to sleep. 

"Did he—" _Did he seem tired?_ she wants to ask, but stops herself before the question can make it past her lips. She's not about to discuss Sheppard's well-being with _a Wraith_. "Never mind. Thanks for letting me know." She forces herself to offer the Wraith a small smile before turning to go.

"Colonel Carter," the Wraith calls out before she's out of the door. "I… I do not wish to cause Sheppard any trouble. I had hoped he would come to trust me eventually."

 _You and me both, buddy_ , Samantha thinks tiredly. Aloud, she says, "Don't worry about it." 

She can't imagine Sheppard _choosing_ to babysit the Wraith when he could be getting some rest instead, so she assumes that rest must not be an option and the alternative is even worse than hanging out with a Wraith.

She'll have to talk to Sheppard about it. Obviously, just saying something is out of question because Sheppard will just clamp down and pretend everything is fine.

So she doesn't outright confront him. Instead, she stays up later than she usually would, armed with a life signs detector, and deliberately-accidentally runs into Sheppard just when's on his way down to the brig. Offering him one of her own fake smiles, which she knows is all radiance and even easier to recognize for what it is than his version, she brightly says, "Colonel! Fancy meeting you here. I was just gonna go to the mess hall for a coffee. Care to join me?"

She's got him cornered and she knows it. He shrugs and smiles and says, "Sure," like he doesn't mind at all.

She thought it would go like this: they sit down, get a coffee, talk about the current situation, the lingering uneasiness about the alliance with Wraith and the visions, and eventually, he opens up to her and explains what the hell he's doing awake at this time of the night and why he's sneaking around the city. 

It's a solid plan.

It actually happens like this: she sits down, he remains standing, hands crossed behind his back as if he's standing at-ease, his face carefully blank, and he asks straight to the point what this is about. 

She's too honest and too tired and she thinks she owes him an outright answer, so she tells him she knows he's been spending the last couple of nights chatting with the Wraith. Her tone, she thinks, is calm and as non-confrontational as possible, which is why the sharpness of his reply startles her. 

"I wasn't aware that it's against the regs to go for a walk at night." There's an underlying insolence to his tone which she knows is as fake as his smiles, just another means to an end. Deliberately trying to aggravate her instead of talking about what's bothering him is such an obvious diversionary tactic and she's determined not to let him get away with it 

"Dammit, John, this isn't some sort of reprimand," she snaps. 

_I wish you would trust me_ , she almost says but bites back at the last moment and takes a deep breath before continuing, more calmly now. "I'm just worried about you. Everyone is worried. Even the Wraith is worried." 

Sheppard raises an eyebrow at that, and some of the rigid tension leaves his body. He runs a hand over his face and finally pulls out a chair to sit down. For the first time, Samantha notices the dark shadows under his eyes and how incredibly worn out he looks. She should have seen this sooner, she thinks. 

"Look," Sheppard starts, and he's sounding too casual and laid-back, but at least he's talking now. "I haven’t been sleeping well since, you know, something used my face to kill people in their sleep. And now with the Wraith and those visions of the Replicators destroying Atlantis... It's a lot to think about, and I just happen to think about it at night. It's no big deal." He makes a small pause. "And we still haven't come up with a plan for how to get to the Replicator home world undetected to upload the Wraith virus, once McKay and the Wraith are done with it."

"And while you're there, see if you can find Elizabeth?" Samantha adds, because it's not like she doesn't know why Sheppard insisted they'd take care of that part of the plan themselves instead of leaving it to the Wraith.

It's not that she doesn't get it. If it had been Jack or Daniel or Teal'c, anyone from her team, she would have been the first one to yell, 'Let's go get them out.' But someone would have stopped her from doing it and getting herself, and possibly others, killed in the process, and even though she would have understood, she would have hated that person a little for it. Except now she has to be that person for someone else. It's not a job she ever wanted.

Sheppard shifts and looks a little guilty. "Look, I know you said I needed to come up with a plan, and I'm working on it. But we have to go there anyway to upload the code. This could be the only chance we get to get her back." 

_If there's enough of her left to get back._ But Samantha doesn't say that. There's no need to state the obvious, and Elizabeth being dead or corrupted by the Nanites inside her is a possibility they all know they're facing.

"I'm not saying that you shouldn't try," she tells him instead.

He nods but doesn't say anything, and he won't meet her eyes. The silence stretches and stretches and becomes solid and awkward, until it reaches the point where it's lasted too long to just break it with some casual remark. 

Ironically, it's McKay who saves them. McKay, obnoxious, loud, and bad with people, storming into the mess hall straight towards the coffee maker and only realizing that the room is occupied when he's already on his way out. 

"Hey, what are you doing here? Can't sleep either, hm?" he asks, tactful like a bulldozer. And even though Samantha wonders if it's some kind of bad sign that both her head of science and her second in command are suffering from insomnia, she can't help but think that she's never been so relieved to see him.

"Nah, we're good," Sheppard says with that trademark smile, so bright and fake that it almost hurts to look at it, lying straight through his teeth. In a way, it's almost comforting to see him trying to hide from McKay as well. Almost, but not quite, because at this point she just wishes he'd open up to _someone_. "Just having a late-night snack."

"Yes, right." McKay rolls his eyes in a way that suggests that he's far too used to Sheppard's attempts at bullshitting. "Which would be a little more credible if you were actually, you know, _eating_ , instead of sitting there brooding. But if it's any consolation, whatever it is keeping you awake, it can't be as bad as being eaten by a whale." 

"Yeah, about that." Sheppard says, obviously only too happy to change the subject. "I don't get it. How can you be scared of whales when… well, you know." Sheppard throws her a furtive glance out of the corner of his eyes, which confuses her, because she really can't imagine what she has to do with McKay's fear of whales.

"Huh? No, I don't 'know'. What are you talking about?"

"Well, you seemed to like the one on the other planet just fine." He leans across the table and adds a stage-whispered, "You know, _Sam_."

Samantha blinks. "I'm sorry. What?" she cuts in.

"Well, you read about the whales on Lantea in the mission report. Rodney named his favourite one 'Sam'." He air-quotes the name, ignoring the glare McKay shoots him.

"So, let me get this straight," she says, trying very hard to suppress the grin that wants to break free when she turns to McKay, "You named a whale after me? As in, the animal you're regularly having nightmares of being eaten alive by?"

"It wasn't like that! He saved my life!" 

"Wait, he? You named a _male_ whale after me?" she adds, all fake incredulousness because winding up McKay has never been more fun and, God, she really needs to have some light-hearted banter right now.

Sheppard gets it, she thinks, because he smirks and offers, "Well, I'm sure it wasn't meant as an insult. Rodney adores you, really."

"Well, of course it wasn't meant as an insult! And also – hello? I'm sitting right here!" McKay protests, but Sheppard goes on as if he hadn't been interrupted.

"I'm starting to see why," he says and gives her that easy, slow smile of his which has probably won them quite a few trading partners and regularly has female aliens all over the Pegasus galaxy swooning. It takes a moment before it really settles in that this time, it's all for her, and even if he doesn't really mean it and only flirts with her to bait McKay, she feels ridiculously, irrationally flattered. Never mind the fact that ten minutes ago, they were barely talking to each other. Or maybe that just makes this more… significant, in a way.

McKay's reaction is as predictable as if Sheppard had scripted it: he looks from one of them to the other and back again, frowning. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me! Don't tell me you're falling for his Kirk charms too?!"

"Oh, I don't know, Rodney. He is quite charming. I mean, even our Wraith seems to be a little in love with him. Must be all the hair." And at this point, she cannot possibly keep a straight face anymore, because she's enjoying this far too much. Beside her, Sheppard barely hides his laughter behind a little cough. Any moment now, McKay will realize that they're just having him on.

Except he doesn't.

"Of course it's the hair! The hair and the smile and the smart-ass comebacks and the flirting he seems to be unable to turn off, and then he gives you that look and suddenly your IQ drops fifty points and you're willing to follow him to hell and back!"

It could be a joke, or even jealousy at Sheppard's alleged ability to have any woman throw herself at his feet (not that Samantha has actually witnessed a single instance where they did), except there's something in McKay's tone that says it isn't. He sounds far too serious and too miserable and the last time she heard him sound so _passionate_ about anything was when he was talking about some huge scientific break-through – and, wow, it seems like she's unintentionally opened Pandora's Box there. 

She can only stare at McKay, and next to her, Sheppard is doing the same, both of them thrown off guard by the heartfelt little rant, though she doesn't think Sheppard quite realizes exactly _what_ McKay accidentally let slip there. 

McKay, on the other hand, seems to be only too well aware of it, because his expression suddenly turns aghast. "I—Sorry. I'm just—I didn't mean to—" He holds up a hand, as if he's trying to stop himself from digging the hole any deeper. "You know what? I think my brain isn't really working right now. I'll just go and get another coffee."

He makes a move to get up, but before he can, suddenly Sheppard's hand clamps around his wrist to stop him. "No, you don't," Sheppard says. 

If his voice hadn't been sharp enough to make her wince and turn to him, Samantha would have missed the flash of confusion on his face, the millisecond when his frown seemed to say, 'Huh. I didn't really mean to say or do this just now.' More than anything else, it surprises her how easy it is for her to read him in this moment. Sheppard, whose expressions are usually impossible to decipher – and suddenly he seems like an open book to her. She wonders if it's the tiredness that makes him let his guard down, or if she can only relate to the sensation of vertigo that comes with acting on instinct in a situation where you really shouldn't. 

Or maybe she's just really getting better at reading him, because she can tell the exact moment when he pushes the confusion away and makes a decision. He smiles and leans back in his chair, and his eyes shift to her.

"I mean, it's three thirty in the morning. Atlantis isn't currently in any immediate danger. So how about, instead of drinking more coffee to try and stay awake, we go to bed?" It's the fake-patient, reasonable 'this is just a humble suggestion, but you know that I'm right' tone, and she must be more tired that she thought because it's working on her.

She's just about to agree that this is a good idea, wish them a good night and walk off to her quarters when she notices the speculative look on Sheppard's face and the hand that's still wrapped around Rodney's wrist and the half-raised eyebrow, and she realizes that wasn't what he meant at all.

For once, McKay catches on the quickest to what's going on. "Wait a moment, are you suggesting—" he begins before a glare from Sheppard makes him stop mid-sentence, and any attempt at subtlety or plausible deniability from Sheppard goes right out of the window there. "Oh my God, you are!"

Sheppard shoots him the sarcastic 'nice work, buddy' look of doom which, from the looks of it, is accompanied by squeezing McKay's wrist a little tighter than what is comfortable, before he turns back to her. "So, what do you say?" he asks, and only the hint of tightness around his mouth betrays his nervousness.

It's a spectacularly bad idea that will solve nothing and could go wrong in more ways than she could list and she shouldn't even contemplate it. God knows what it is that propels her to say, "Sounds like a good idea," as if she's agreeing to… to something a lot less controversial and complicated and monumental. But it must have been the right thing to say because Sheppard visibly relaxes.

"Rodney?"

McKay's eyes shift back and forth between them. "If this is a joke, I'm going to kill you both and feed you to the whales. Possibly not in this order," he announces. 

Neither of them reminds him that the whales are back on another planet. It doesn't matter, because it _isn't_ a joke. This is real. And yet, it doesn't feel that way – she should be wondering whether she's making a mistake, should be listing all the reasons why this is a bad idea, should be feeling sick with anticipation. But she doesn't; she just gets up and follows Sheppard as if it's the most natural thing in the world, knowing with the same certainty that McKay is right behind her. It's surreal and unreal, as if it's only happening in a dream where everything just _is_ and nothing ever has consequences.

It still feels unreal in the morning when she wakes between them, and she can't really remember how exactly they went from bickering about McKay's whale to… to this.

She cautiously slips out of bed at the foot end, trying her best not to disturb either of them. John turns in his sleep, immediately taking her spot and rolling into Rodney, fitting against him like he belongs. Samantha feels a stab of… no, not jealousy and not sadness, exactly, but something a lot like it, because something in the unconscious gesture makes her think that she intruded on something she wasn't supposed to. 

Shaking the thought off, Samantha turns to put on her clothes. She bends to retrieve her pants, and when she looks up again, McKay is watching her through sleepy eyes.

"What are you doing? It's still early!" he hisses, in lieu of good morning. It's almost enough to make her laugh because McKay being cranky before his third cup of coffee – that's familiar. It's the first thing that has felt real and right and normal ever since she woke up. In a way, it's the first thing that has felt normal ever since she stepped through the gate to take command of Atlantis.

And still, all she can muster is a tight, brittle smile. "No, it's not. Shift starts in thirty minutes." When Rodney groans and makes a move that looks like a half-hearted attempt to get up, she quickly shakes her head. "No, don't. You take the day off. Him, too." She motions to John, who's still dead to the world, curled up against Rodney's side. Rodney looks down at him, and his features immediately soften – and this time, the clenching in her gut is definitely jealousy. 

It's worse, because she knows what she's missing. She remembers how, only a few hours ago, it was her between them and Rodney's fingers climbing up her spine with the same gentleness and appreciation he devotes to handling precious technology. She remembers John's body against hers, lean and strong, every scar she touched a celebration of survival. She remembers closing her eyes and reaching out and holding on blindly, no questions asked, no awkwardness or doubts, no you or he or I, just _us_. 

But the memory, which was a sensation only a moment ago, is already just an image, and Samantha knows that it'll fade further before the day is over. Seeing them together like this, it's hard not to be a little jealous.

But then Rodney looks up again at her, and his face remains open and unguarded. "Come back to bed. The city can survive without you for a day as well," he says. 

She didn't expect this, and she doesn't know how to react. It's early and her mind still seems to be half-asleep, because it stays blank. When Rodney gets tired of her standing there staring, he holds out his hand and says, "Come on," which shouldn't be as inviting as it is, in all its snappiness.

Obviously, she shouldn't be doing this. It's inappropriate; for some reason, it's even more inappropriate now than it was last night. It complicates everything. But Samantha has made so many sacrifices to avoid complications, and she's sick and tired of it. When she looks at the offered hand, it looks like warmth and sleep and comfort and together, and she thinks of Elizabeth's letter.

"Maybe just for a while," she says.

End.


End file.
